


you're a hideous thing inside

by Inkarnadyne



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Demon!Stiles, Hurt, M/M, Torture, dark!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:20:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkarnadyne/pseuds/Inkarnadyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know, I get it now.” He says, “I really do, and I didn’t before, and I bet that was hard. I mean, really difficult.”</p>
<p>There’s understanding in his tone, in his expression when he steps in front of Derek, an old bat between his hands, the wood pitted and scarred and stained.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're a hideous thing inside

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Starts So Soft and Sweet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/525994) by [starfleetdicks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfleetdicks/pseuds/starfleetdicks). 



“You know, I get it now.” He says, “I really do, and I didn’t before, and I bet that was hard. I mean, really difficult.”

There’s understanding in his tone, in his expression when he steps in front of Derek, an old bat between his hands, the wood pitted and scarred and stained.

“It must have been so fucking hard for you to sit there and talk to me like I wasn’t stupid.” His grip tightens on the bat, and Derek watches the way the veins along the back of his hands stand out, the way his fingernails catch and scrape at the wood. “To hold me and kiss me and pretend the whole time that you didn’t hate me.”

And his gaze goes soft for the briefest seconds, then freezes, all traces of warmth gone.

“Poor, stupid Stiles Stilinski, son of the sheriff, the boy who runs with the wolves.” And he bites off the ends of his words, and his teeth are slick and white in the dim lighting. Derek remembers the way they felt, remembers when Stiles would bite his shoulder to muffle his moans when they fucked, remembered the way Stiles had sunk them into his throat when he’d first been strapped into this chair.

_‘rip my throat out with your teeth, remember that derek? do you?’_

“But I get it know, Derek, I really, really fucking do.” The end of the bat clunks against the concrete floor, and Stiles leans on it, props one foot up on the chair between Derek’s spread thighs.

“This… Fuck, this is so much fun.” He reaches out, runs the pads of his fingers down Derek’s cheek, through the stubble, crusted with blood. Every thing’s healed now, it always heals quick, and Derek wishes it didn’t, wishes his body didn’t betray him and give Stiles fresh skin to tear, whole bones to crack each time.

“And I bet you didn’t think I was capable.” Stiles has that unassuming face on, that one he always wore so well. “I mean, I didn’t even think I was capable of it all, really. I mean, sure I kidnapped Jackson, but that was for good, right? Hell of a trial run, though. Nabbing you wasn’t that hard at all.”

Stiles leans back, and the toe of his sneaker is pressed close between Derek’s legs, always the threat of more pain. Just waiting for Derek to slip up, to make him angry. But it’s not like Derek can do anything but sit there. The mask Stiles had strapped on him, with the mouthpiece full of wolfsbane, the mistletoe curled around his wrists, and across the room the silver coating the bars. Stiles had been doing his research. It was… impressive really.

“But… anything’s possible with a little help, right, Derek?” And his voice has gone soft and low. The end of the bat is under his chin and Derek obeys the press, looks up into Stiles’s face. Those honey-brown eyes are gone, swallowed up by pitch, and Derek nearly jerks back in surprise. Stiles’s face is completely blank, void, and his eyes are solid, dark black.

“Oop.” And Stiles honestly sounds a little taken aback. “Scared ya, didn’t I?” And he’s grinning at Derek with those black eyes.

“Are you surprised, Derek? Are you shocked?” And Stiles twists his features into a mockery of surprise, glances around like he’s got an audience. “What did you think would happen, puppy? My little sourwolf.”

The bat is resting across Stiles’s leg now, and Derek doesn’t know where to keep looking, because right now everything is a weapon.

“Did you really think I’d just roll over and take it again?” And the words are more of a snarl than Derek thinks he’s ever heard from a human, and there are fingers on his throat, fingertips digging in. “Did you think you were really the baddest motherfucker in town, Derek Hale?”

Stiles leans in and hisses out his next words, and Derek wants to breathe deep but the wolfsbane in the mask clouds his lungs.

“There are so many things you don’t even know about, things with bigger claws, and more teeth than you’ll ever have.” He snaps, shoving Derek hard back against the chair.

“You know it wasn’t even that hard to find one willing to help.” Stiles blinks, his voice back to normal. He could be talking about the weather the same way he’s talking about letting some brimstone-stinking creature of the pit into his body.

“I am the sheriff’s son, after all. You’d be surprised what I have to offer.” He blinks again and his eyes are back to wide, soft brown. “I mean, Beacon’s a small town, yeah, but this prison, just outside of town? This is a nice place. And come on, I stole a transport vehicle to kidnap Jackson, security around this place is just… lame.”

And he’s speaking like he’s expecting Derek to agree, to nod and laugh about the bumbling small-town cops.

“This prison they just… they lock them up like sardines. So many bodies, just trapped in here. Locked up, hopeless, helpless.” And Stiles sounds hungry when he talks about it, like he’s the predator here, the one with sharp claws and teeth for rending flesh. Derek remembers the void in his black gaze, and thinks that maybe he is.

“I mean, the sort of fun you can have in a place like that!” Stiles pushes off from the chair, and it screams the inch back across the concrete. His movements are loose, casual, and he steps back away from Derek, lifts the bat to his shoulder.

“Murderers, thieves, rapists, all locked up in a big concrete box? They’re all monsters, right? No one’s surprised when they kill each other, when they slit each other’s throats with homemade shivs. So you throw a few real monsters in here, and it’s a fuckin’ party!” He laughs, excited, and reaches up to grip the bat with both hands, settles into a stance like a ballplayer and swings. The bat whistles through the air, and Stiles grins. When he glances back to Derek again his eyes are black.

“Kid’s got a hell of a swing, right?”

Stiles’s head jerks to one side, features twisting in annoyance, eyes shut, human again when they open.

“But this prison… I mean, that’s just a bonus. A playground, a hideout.” Stiles slides his hand over the surface of the bat. “It’s just a hole for us to slither into. But something to play with? A wolf pack? An alpha?” Stiles’s eyebrows lift, and he grins at Derek.

“That’s fun, that’s real fun. And sure I’m not alone up here anymore,” He taps a finger to the side of his head, “But it’s worth it to get to do this, to have you like this.”

He moves to the chair again, sets his foot back up in the space between Derek’s thighs, leans in close.

“There are just… so many things I want to do to you. And the demon has a few ideas of his own, good ideas.”

The bat thunks down on Derek’s shoulder, rolls up to his neck and then back.

“We’ve got plans for you, Derek Hale. You and your pack. That McCall boy, he’s really going places. Do you think Allison’s going to notice when we take him?” Stiles leans in close, hissing in Derek’s ear, and Derek doesn’t need to see to know his eyes have bled to black again.

“Do you think she’s going to notice when it’s one of us inside her pretty little boyfriend? What about that Lahey boy? Now there’s a kid with issues. Surprised we haven’t seen him around before. Types like that are normally just aching to go darkside, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to pin that little blonde bitch up to a wall in front of Boyd and take a bite out of her. It’s always the best when it was a friend, I mean, that betrayal is just…” Stiles makes an exaggerated slurping sound near Derek’s ear, and he feels the slick press of a hot tongue along his jawline.

“Delicious. But why am I bothering to tell you?” He asks, pulling back, head cocked slightly to one side, eyebrows furrowed. And it’s Stiles all over, posture, the way his shoulders are up, questioning. But his eyes are still just darkness and death and nothingness.

“You know all about it, right? About how it feels to rip the life right out of someone who trusted you? Who loved you?” Stiles grins, nods, and his nose scrunches up just a little as he continues. “Yeah, you do.”

He steps back, starts settling his feet into position and sets the bat up on his shoulder.

“It’s a good feeling, it really is.”

The bat swings down, cracks hard against the side of Derek’s face and he’s seeing stars and everything goes dim and red and then flashes back to him.

“But then again, so is this.”


End file.
